Going Up?
by Fairady
Summary: Going up Mr. Drake? slight slash
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own these characters not, which is good because I'd have a lot to answer for otherwise.

Warnings: Bit of slash in this chapter, and that's about it.

Notes: Anyone remember Cole? The elevator boy of an apartment building, oh, several years back? I liked him. He had a snarky relationship with Tim, and a kinda pathetic crush on Stephanie. (Which I, of course, took to mean he liked iboth/i of them.) Anyway, the important thing is that I remember him, and that I wrote fic about him way back when and promptly forgot it existed.

Going up?  
by Fairady

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True, he did not like his job. It was boring, repetitive, and often demeaning. It paid his rent though and the occasional tips weren't to be scoffed at. Most of the residents were very generous with tips. Whether or not they could afford the extravagant gesture was something that didn't concern him. It was also the only job he knew of that allowed him to complete his college assignments while on the clock.

Combined with a few other perks, it wasn't a bad job at all for a college student. Some people might even call it a dream job.

Some people didn't have to put up with the constant insults to his taste.

"Door," the stuffy business man strode out of the elevator with only a slight sneer for Cole. Cole hoped his expensive alligator shoes slipped on the tiles causing him to break his skinny little neck.

It was a new record for him. He'd already been propositioned three times that night by two slightly drunk women and one freckled pizza boy. The pencil neck made it four. At least the others had the decency not to press their suit after his initial refusal. That man though-

Cole glared at the doors. He was what some of the upper-class would call New Money and, for once, Cole thought the description and inherent disdain fit. The bastard had actually offered him _money_. Three hundred dollars, as if he were just some rent-boy put there for no other purpose, and the money was a huge favor.

Encounters like that made him seriously consider quitting. He didn't need the money to survive. Sure, it was nice to not tap into his savings for rent, but the insults really weren't worth it.

"Whoa! I haven't even said anything and you're already glaring."

It was, however, worth the small perks that occasionally felt like showing up. Timothy Drake stepped into the elevator smiling despite his words. Somewhat intelligent conversation, sweet personality, and a nice smile. Definitely one of his job perks.

"My apologies. Next time I'll wait to hear what honeyed words of wisdom you greet me with first," and the guy had a sense of humor that he could appreciate. Verbally sparring with the younger guy was, sadly, often the high-light of his days. Pity he was straighter than most jocks.

Pity aside, Cole didn't really feel up to his usual remarks. Still feeling foul over his last passenger, he turned back to his book.

_Only this and nothing more._ Poe wasn't on his curriculum, but it was an old favorite that deserved to be revisited every so often. Falling houses, ravens, beating hearts, and raving madmen. He often wondered if Gotham had effected Poe or if Poe himself had effected the growing city. The ambiance of his works caught the mood of the city so perfectly.

"Is everything alright?" Tim spoke hesitantly, jarring him out of the poem.

Cole raised one eyebrow and looked over the book he pointedly kept raised, "What?"

"Mr. Jones," Tim said as if the name explained everything. As Cole said nothing he shrugged, face turning sheepish. "The guy that came out before me. He was muttering- Um, things. He wasn't giving you any problems was he?"

Hell. This was the _last_ thing he wanted to be talking about, but Tim had that stubbornly earnest look that meant he was going to do something stupid. Like report it or try to help protect Cole. Sweet, but misguided.

"Not that it is any of your business, but there is no 'problem,'" the bastard had tried threatening him, but outright laughter had thrown him off. Cole doubted the man had the cojones to try again. "If there were Mr.- Jones was it? Mr. Jones wouldn't be muttering, much less walking."

"Right," Tim said with a grin even though he rolled his eyes. "Sorry to insult your manly pride. I just wanted-"

The elevator stopped whatever he was going to say, and Cole did his duty and opened the door. It was an effective and rather pointed way to end the conversation. Tim smiled one last time and walked down the hall.

He wondered when Tim would catch on the the fact that Cole didn't _need_ to keep the doors open and make sure residents made it to their doors. Probably never, but he wasn't going to complain. For once, he wore clothes that actually fit instead of the fashionably baggy stuff his wardrobe seemed to be made of. The jeans were a little worn but fit snugly showing off his ass perfectly.

No, Cole didn't really need the money or the job, but he could take the perks.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own these characters not, which is good because I'd have a lot to answer for otherwise.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations.

Notes: Found this while doing some cleaning of my sentient closet, which I barely escaped with my life. And, yes, I love point/counter-point fics as much as I love how oblivious Tim can be about certain things. Also, did I mention this is in no way connected to current canon?

Going up?  
by Fairady

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"-money not good enough for the snotty cocksucker."

Tim stopped cold, checking the urge to stop the man hard. Jones brushed past him unconcerned that he might have been overheard. It was easy to guess what the man was talking about. Tim had seen his crude propositions among the small building staff, and Robin had witnessed him visiting a few of the darker brothels Gotham offered. He'd thought the man would have backed off when one of the cleaners actually called the cops on him. Tim wondered who'd been lucky enough to be bothered by him this time and pressed the call button for the elevator.

The doors opened immediately and Tim found himself face to murderous glare with Cole. Which answered his question quite nicely. He almost pitied Jones for trying to hit on Cole, it was hard imagining anyone even trying anything on him and living through the verbal reaming they'd no doubt get.

Tim smiled at the thought of Cole having to register his tongue as a weapon, "Whoa! I haven't even said anything and you're already glaring."

Cole blinked and straightened, obviously surprised to see someone else. Probably too busy imagining death and horrors on Jones, "My apologies. Next time I'll wait to hear what honeyed words of wisdom you greet me with first."

_Honeyed words of wisdom?_ Tim smirked and checked the book that was raised up as an obvious barrier. Edgar Allen Poe. Why was he not surprised? Dark, morbid, and utterly depressing. It was perfect for Cole, and just one of the many reasons why Jones should've known not to try anything.

"Is everything alright?" hard as it was to imagine, Tim still wanted to be sure nothing had happened. Mary the cleaning lady had a nice yellowing bruise on her arm, and the clubs Jones went to were of the rough trade variety.

"What?" Cole deigned to glance over the top of the book. Tim still couldn't believe how much scorn he could pack into the simple lifting of an eyebrow.

"Mr. Jones," Cole said nothing but, somehow, the scorn seemed to double. _Did he threaten and/or hurt you when you refused his offer to suck his dick?_ How exactly did you ask that question without dying of embarrassment anyway? Batman did it all the time, and Tim still couldn't figure it out. "The guy that came out before me. He was muttering- Um, things. He wasn't giving you any problems was he?"

Yeah, _that_ was a lot better.

"Not that it is any of your business, but there is no 'problem,'" Cole scowled at him, and Tim could almost see the air-quotes around that word. "If there were Mr.- Jones was it? Mr. Jones wouldn't be muttering, much less walking."

"Right," he really shouldn't have expected any less from Cole. "Sorry to insult your manly pride. I just wanted-"

The elevator chimed to a stop and Cole opened the doors. The conversation was clearly over. Tim walked off with one last cheerful smile and headed towards the apartment.

The smile slipped off his face as soon as his back was turned. Robin had been seeing Jones at the brothels more often lately, and his behavior in the building seemed to be getting more persistent. There was no guarantee that the next time he got turned down he'd take it as nicely. No guarantee that he'd leave Cole or Mary alone now. Mary hadn't allowed herself to be alone ever since it happened. Cole could probably take care of himself, but Jones had at least a hundred pounds over him.

Maybe it was time for Robin to make a little run through the brothels and see what he could scare up.

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